


'Til You Get Too Low

by oisiflaneur



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gang Rape, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Rape, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisiflaneur/pseuds/oisiflaneur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you’re <i>completely</i> honest, you were kind of expecting to see Felix on the other side. You’ve played enough video games to know how this goes: when the portal takes you to some kind of boss level to prove your mettle (metal? fuck it, you’ll ask Wash later), it’s either going to be some big bad killer monster, or a total mindfuck. Those are the two options for the final level, right?</p><p>So yeah, being back at the base of the radio tower doesn’t surprise you too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til You Get Too Low

**Author's Note:**

> so the fiance REALLY wanted some felix & tucker, but i kept saying i couldn't see a timeframe when it would work in canon... but then he pointed out that we don't actually SEE what happens in tucker's trial in 13. so this happened, because i am one of those people who likes to torture their favorites as brutally as possible. i am so sorry for my sins.
> 
> normally i also subscribe to trans!tucker but i was a lot less comfortable making that even remotely sexy, so.
> 
>  **content warnings:** major spoilers for basically all of rvb13, graphic rape with several parties, some nasty uses of fluids, aaaand let me know if i forgot anything!
> 
> my general writing tag is [here](http://oisiflaneur.tumblr.com/tagged/graywrites) for drabbles etc!

“Nothin’ to worry about, baby. I, am a _true motherfuckin warrior._ ” God, you love the sound that sword makes when you activate it; it’s like an instant shot of caffeine. It explains that note of confidence in your tone that surprises even you, if you’re completely honest. But like you said, you already got the key and unlocked this thing, so how hard could it _be?_

If you’re _completely_ honest, you were kind of expecting to see Felix on the other side. You’ve played enough video games to know how this goes: when the portal takes you to some kind of boss level to prove your mettle (metal? fuck it, you’ll ask Wash later), it’s either going to be some big bad killer monster, or a total mindfuck. Those are the two options for the final level, right?

So yeah, being back at the base of the radio tower doesn’t surprise you too much.

Felix is decked out in his armor, leaning casually against the wall, his helmet tilted down to make it clear he’s eyeing you. “Well, well, if it isn’t captain Tucker. You think _you_ have what it takes to be a true warrior?”

And _oh_ , you’ve thought about this. Probably a little too much, really, but now isn’t the time for that. _Now_ is the time to pull out your sword and snarl a quip at him, but somehow, the best that you can think of is “You ready for your rematch, motherfucker?”

There’s a laugh as he pulls out his knife again, stepping sideways to circle around you. You turn to follow him, waiting for him to make the first move, this time. When he doesn’t, and instead cants his head and gives you the cocky little Matrix finger beckon, you _might_ kind of lose it a little.

When you shift your weight down and dart forward, you swing the blade upwards towards his middle, a smile tugging at your mouth behind your visor as you murmur “ _Swish--_ ”

But he must have stepped aside; because that’s when your ears start ringing, your vision blurring so that your HUD is unreadable, your teeth rattling against each other. It throws you off balance, and when you try to tuck and roll, you see him holding the knife with the hilt facing downwards, the other hand on his cocked hip, and the pain at the back of your skull suddenly makes sense.

“Man, you really haven’t learned your lesson at all, have you? What _exactly_ made you think that you could take me on in close quarters?” 

You manage to land on your heels and spring up from a crouch, pushing the pain away and trying to calculate how to try and back him up against the wall so you can pin him down, try to get him into a corner so that he can’t keep ducking away from your blows. He’s still fucking _talking_ , jabbering away about how stupid you are for even trying to take him on, but you’re tuning it out. Got your head in the game, blocking him out so that he can’t mess with your mind, like a proper soldier. One more step to the left and you can rush him again--

“Not planning on trying the same trick, are you, Tucker?”

The words come from behind you, and you have to whip around on the balls of your feet to find the speaker. It’s Felix, _again_ , unarmed and at ease, his weight casually balanced on one leg and his arms crossed. 

Somehow, you find that you aren’t questioning it. There’s a kind of dream logic to this place, a detachment from reality that means anything can happen, so that your only thought is _fuck, how did I let him sneak around_ before the pressure on the back of your kneecaps sends you buckling to the floor. And _that_ sure doesn’t feel like a dream.

Neither does the sudden pressure on your wrist when he grabs it with one hand, using the other to peel your knuckles off of the energy scabbard with only the quietest grunt of exertion to betray that it takes any effort at all. 

“Augh, what the _fuck!_ ” Your voice soars in volume and pitch as you twist your legs out from underneath you, writhing out of the kneel you were brought to and back into a crouch. It’s ultimately pointless, of course, but it lets you swing your heels out in front of you to try and land a kick on the first Felix. Felix Prime? Trying to label them gets interrupted when he grabs your ankle and lifts it easily, throwing your balance off completely and sending you to the ground with a _thud_ , while Felix Double Prime still holds your opposite arm above your head.

“Geeze, this is just _saaaaad_. Don’t tell me that you _actually_ thought you could win this.” You aren’t sure which one says it, since it seems to be coming from -- oh, for _fuck’s sake._

There’s another one on your other wrist, pulling that up and back and away from your pistol, but the both of them sink into a crouch until your spine is held up vertical and your legs askew.

“Fucking-- fuck you!” You manage to splutter, landing a single kick on the shoulder of the Felix in front of you. It _clang_ s off his armor, prompts a laugh, and doesn’t stop him from grabbing your other ankle and pushing it to the ground at his side. “Really, captain Tucker? That’s the best you’ve got?”

And then he’s leaning over you, and you don’t need to be able to see through his visor to know that he’s squinting with the sheer wideness of his grin. “I’d say I expected better, but you know what? I really didn’t.” 

His fingers dig into the clasps on your suit, pulling at your codpiece first. There’s a moment where your brain just hangs, trying to process what he could be doing, before you start to kick and thrash with renewed vigor. “Oh, _hell no!_ Sorry, I’m not looking to repeat _that_ mistake!” 

Felix just laughs at you, all of them, a hideous echoing cackle that sets your heart fluttering like a panicked bird in the cage of your ribs. “I’m _sorry_ , captain _Tucker_ , but when did I give you the impression that what you want is _worth a damn?_ ”

You realize that you aren’t losing control of the situation: you never had any at all to begin with.

The two behind you were at some point joined by yet another, who uses his free hands to start on your helmet, even as the one kneeling pulls his own off. As soon as it’s lifted free of your skull, there’s a hand carding through your dreads, achingly gentle; before the fingers twist into a fist in your ponytail, tugging your face back. 

“ _Ow_ , what the fuck!” The doppelgangers by your shoulders are all still suited up, unable to kiss you, but another gauntleted hand trails across your cheek to your mouth, rubbing a thumb against your bottom lip. You make to bite him, but only get laughter in stereo and a tweak on the tip of your nose for your trouble. And then there are metal fingertips digging into your cheeks, tilting your head up, to see that the ring of helmets around you has kept multiplying until you start to fear they’ll block out the sun. On the list of things you might want to look at as you take your last breath, a dozen Felixes undoubtedly smirking behind his visor would be _very_ close to the bottom. You hadn’t even known that until this moment, but it’s definitely there, nestled somewhere between “your loved ones bleeding out” and “a naked Caboose”. Just about the only thing you’d like to see less is a naked Caboose bleeding out.

You can’t see it, but you manage to hear the _thunk_ your helmet makes on the gravel when one of them casts it aside.

While the others kept you occupied, the first managed to wrestle off your codpiece and greaves, and tilts forward to lean over you as he splays his hands against your navel. “Mmmmmm, you know? Sometimes it’s an awful shame these suits are so durable. You’d look good while I cut you out of it.” 

“Oh my _god_ , do you ever shut up?” You manage to growl, trying to bare your teeth in what you hope is an intimidating scowl, twisting again to try and rip your limbs out of his grasp. The ones by your chest have started to unclip your gauntlets, pulling the rest of your armor off while the one on top of you starts to peel your undersuit off. “Seriously, you’re like, the actual worst at dirty talk. I’m not into this at _all_ , dude.”

It just prompts another laugh as he rolls the suit down your torso, palming at the exposed skin of your stomach. “No? You sure got into it the last time. In fact, I think I know how to get you in the mood…”

And then there’s a spike of fresh panic through you as he curls his knuckles under your suit, staring you straight in the eyes and licking his lips obscenely while he peels it down to your knees. You scowl and twist your head, but then here’s a gloved hand curled under your chin, keeping you facing forward to watch Felix lap the head of your cock into his mouth.

And there’s half a dozen caustic laughs echoing in your ears, to make up for the fact that the first can’t do anything but smirk crookedly up at you, his lips wrapped around your glans. You try to kick again, only to find and extra set of hands holding down each of your ankles. 

Even now, Felix doesn’t really seem to _do_ quiet. The moan he lets out as he slips his mouth further along your shaft is straight out of a porno: you’d know, not only how porn sounds, _obviously_ (even if it’s been years), but how loud Felix likes to be. And, just like you remember, the way he flicks his tongue to drag that metal stud along your skin gets you halfway hard in an instant. You don’t want it to work as well as it does. You know that’s why he _has_ that piercing.

He groans again when his lips meet the very base of your cock, humming around you and laving his tongue along the bottom of your shaft. It’s tinny through the helmet speakers, but you can still hear the spare mercenaries laughing, whispering to each other, quipping at you. The one grasping your jaw leans in to murmur to you, an inch from your ear. “You’re not bad, you know, but you’re nothing compared to what I’m used to. It’s like the difference between a cute family diner and a four star restaurant. ” You try to turn your head to give some witty retort (“Hope you get food poisoning”, maybe? ), but instead choke on a gasp as Felix slips the flat of his tongue over your dick, pushing the steel ball along your slit.

There’s a fresh roar of laughter from the others, and your chin is finally released, meaning that you can tilt it your head back and look away from his lips wrapped around your shaft and hands working at you below them. But he sees your attention waver, and Felix’s nails bury into the thin skin of your hip, dragging hard along the bone. The meaning is clear: you’re not allowed to look _anywhere_ but him, right now.

You’re intensely grateful that it’s never really shown through your skin, but your face is burning with humiliation and fury. As if having fucked him before wasn’t bad enough. It had been a _mistake_ , as soon as you’d heard the words _”Most people would have to_ plan _that sort of thing.”_ you’d sworn never to even think of this again.

You really, truly hate that you know that Felix gives good head.

“Alright, alright, enough of that. Just spit should be fine, you’re waaaaay smaller than what I’m used to.” Felix drawls, sitting back up and wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. “And I wouldn’t want to go too far and make you useless to me _already_ , would we?”

You hadn’t thought it possible for your cheeks to feel hotter -- how is there any blood left in your head, anyway? -- but the “Fuck you!” that you try to snarl in retaliation is weakened by the way you’re panting for breath.

“Oh, _too easy,_ ” He sighs, his voice dripping with disappointment. “What’s your charming little catchphrase, again? Are you trying to get me to say that?” Even while he gabs, his knuckles are curled around your dick, his other hand smoothly unclipping his own armor. 

“Hey chicka bump bump.” You practically spit at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Yeah, it's real cute. Well, now you’ve gone and said it for me.” The armored clones on either side spare a hand from your legs to help him roll his own undersuit down, exposing all the scars and tattoos you wish you didn’t know he has. “So, everybody’s happy, right?”

There are gauntleted hands brushing through your hair, pulling your ponytail out, making fists in your dreads to tug your face down. “Oh yeah, I’m fucking beside myself!” You hiss, high and reedy, as you try to yank your head out of their grasps.

“No, actually.” Shifting his weight up onto the balls of his feet so that he can bury his teeth against the skin of your neck, Felix spares a few moments to suck and bite at your collarbone. “I think you’ll find that _I’m_ beside _myself._ ”

“Oh, fuck you!” You shout again in frustration, unable to really process anything more complex, while the surrounding Felixes throw their heads back by various degrees and cackle.

The doppelgangers further down have peeled the main one’s suit down and off his ankles, taking care of his boots for him. It leaves him able to kiss the sensitive flesh at the corner of your jaw, and leaves both his hands free to simultaneously stroke along your dick and guide it against his cunt. “Yeah, you idiot, that’s the idea. Let’s see if you’ve gotten any better at it, shall we?”

And then, in one smooth motion, his hips are flush against yours. The only reason that your head doesn’t kick back when you gasp is that the others are still holding it in place, forcing you to watch the ringleader. So instead you close your eyes, trying to ignore the wet heat when he clenches around you, which is somehow much more difficult than ignoring the teeth and the fingernails and the steel thimbles of armored fingertips digging into you.

“Oooooh no, no no no _no!_ ” The moment, however short, that you let yourself get lost in how good it feels to fuck _fucking Felix_ , brings new fervor to your nervous system and has you writhing and baring your teeth again. Unfortunately (for you), trying to squirm out of his grasp has you inadvertently bucking up against him, too.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He clicks his tongue at you, shaking his head, leaning over you. His knees are braced on either side of your legs, his ankles hooked over the insides of our thighs, keeping you pinned. “Just stay still for me, would you? You _should_ be good at that, you lazy shit.”

For the first time since you went through the portal, you want to listen to him. Going limp and making him do all the work feels like the closest thing to resistance available to you. And it’s easy enough, with his palm pressed flat against your chest to hold you flat against the ground.

“You know, I thought this was kinda cute.” He mutters, trailing his fingertips along the jagged line of the c-section scar messily bisecting your navel. Felix’s fingertips are, for once, unexpectedly and unnervingly tender. The next syllables out of his mouth shatter the illusion. “I’m glad I got to give you a new one.” 

“Yeah, too bad they don’t match.” You try to bare your teeth, try to make it clear that this isn’t a fucking joke to you, no matter what it is to him. 

Especially when family gets involved.

“Could always give you another, right?”

“ _Fuck y--_ ” You start to hiss, but have to bite your bottom lip to silence yourself. You’re not a quiet partner by nature, and your climax is usually loudly signalled; be it with a curse, a blessing, or just a sound effect. You try to stifle it, but a thin keen makes it past your teeth.

And, of course, _of course_ , it doesn’t escape Felix’s notice. “Damn. You know, you’re lucky my cooch is basically a septic tank. I can’t imagine you taking care of, well. Anything. You couldn’t even take care of a bunch of grown ass adult _soldiers_!” He laughs again, leaning back to peer down at you with lidded eyes, crooked smirk splashed across his mouth.

“But _tsk_ , you went and left me high and dry!” As though responding to some unheard or unspoken agreement, the armored Felixes ease your chest down, shifting their grip on your shoulders to pin them against the gravel. “Overeager, just like before. At least you have one mediocre talent, huh?” He doesn’t bother with cleaning you off when he slides off of your cock, leaving you wet and cold and spent; leaving your suit wrinkled and stained. You think you’ll have to try to burn it.

You don’t have the time or brainpower to think anything else, because First Felix is crawling up along your body to kneel just above your face, his ankles hooked over the joints of your shoulders now. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead as he winds his knuckles through your hair, and your stomach turns at the facade of affection. The pretense evaporates as swiftly as it welled up, and you let out a yelp when his hand makes a tight fist in your dreads and yanks your skull back.

“You remember how this goes, right? Don’t tell me you’re _that_ stupid.”

He settles his weight against your mouth without any further coaxing, preventing what was definitely going to be a snappy retort by the time it escaped from your larynx. 

The last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut is him craning above you, licking the front of his teeth while he slides a hand down to shove his thumb between your own, prising your jaws open. And maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, but all of a sudden you can’t keep your muscles locked anymore; you just give up. 

You taste the sweat on the outside of his knuckle as you slip your tongue between your teeth, running the flat of it along his clit. When that earns you a minute shiver and a transient loosening on your scalp, you throw away what’s left of your abandon. And, as much as you hate to admit it, he was right about one thing. You are _really fucking good_ at giving head. It only takes a deft flick to pull the folds of his clit between your teeth, laving the flat of your tongue against the bottom as you suck at him.

It’s _so fucking tempting_ to bite him, to sink your teeth in where it would really fucking hurt, but you aren’t sure which possibility you’re more afraid of: the repercussions from the others if he doesn’t like it, or what he might say if he does.

Without changing his tone, Felix starts to rut against you, apparently unsatisfied with the provided friction. You had been trying to ignore the itch of a slow drip down your chin, but when you spare your tongue to ring around the entrance to his cunt, you taste more than just _him_. There’s a similar muskiness, but -- oh _fuck_ , that’s right, he didn’t bother with protection--

Your thoughts are interrupted by a cackle, which shifts into a harsh moan from Felix as he catches you at the angle he wants and grinds the back of your skull into the ground.

For the first time, the thought _just let this be over_ flits through your head; you’re too exhausted to try and fight back or even ignore him, anymore.

**The candidate has failed.**

The voice is deep and booming, and repeats itself in enligsh and sangheili, before fading with an cold echo. But as soon as you hear the first syllable, everything goes bright, _blindingly_ gold, and you’re standing upright in your armor, clean and noticeably without the fatigue that had been weighing down your limbs. The only physical remnant of your experience is the trembling in your joints and the pounding of your heart.

You shake yourself, trying to focus on the words you’re actually hearing now instead of the ones bouncing around the inside of your skull, punctuated by derisive laughter. “I… I saw Felix.” You manage to stutter, and hope that’s enough for them. 

The world is clearer now, the fog starting to lift from your mind, making you try to make sense of what just happened. “Well, I don’t think it was really him. He showed up, then another Felix showed up. And next thing I know, there are a billion fucking assholes all over me!” 

You realize how incriminating that sounds, and thank whatever gods might be listening that you think of something reasonably believable immediately. “Same thing with Locus! I couldn’t fight ‘em off.” 

They seem to accept this, more preoccupied with how to best the trial, rather than what exactly it consists of. There’s a sting of guilt that you can’t warn Carolina, but how would you explain that? You’re not getting into that conversation with her. So, you let her take Church and step through, swishing your tongue around the inside of your mouth, trying to make sure that the taste lingering on your teeth is imaginary.

As soon as their attention is elsewhere, you yank off your helmet and spit on the ground. 

If you ever see him in reality again, Felix is a _dead man._


End file.
